


Golden

by Nightmaresandsugar (CyanideSerpents)



Category: Spies In Disguise (2019)
Genre: Author curses, F/M, Flips between past and present, Gen, I may not finish, I'm Bad At Tagging, Injury, Minor Character Death, Post Movie, Post Spies in Disguise, Science, Science Fiction, Science Jargon, Slow-ish burn, The song I most resonate with in each chapter will be in end notes, Tropes, Wings, depictions of violence on main, how many clichés can I fit into one story, i don't know okay, it wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:40:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22097266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CyanideSerpents/pseuds/Nightmaresandsugar
Summary: Karma would kill Lance Sterling.Or she would die trying.
Relationships: (platonic), Killian (Spies in Disguise)/Original Female Character, Killian (Spies in Disguise)/Reader, Killian/Original Female Character, Killian/Reader - Relationship, Tristan Mcford/Original Female Character, Tristan Mcford/Reader, Walter Beckett & Lance Sterling
Comments: 9
Kudos: 23





	1. How Cruel is the Golden Rule

_Then_

Standard mission. Get in, find the targets, get out, easy. Or, at least, it should be. The only problem with the word “easy,” was that it didn’t account for the name Sterling to be jammed in the middle of it. 

When the Director had handed the files to the two expectant agents, it didn’t take long for them to start protesting. 

“What?!” Agent Yang was the first to screech, the large, darkly painted, metal backpack she wore shifting as if reacting to her indignation. She buried her hands in her short, snow - white hair dramatically, nearly jostling the neural implant connecting the backpack to her right temple.

“You’re making us work with Mr. ‘I fly solo?’” Murmured Agent Yin disapprovingly, still flicking idly through the report.

Her appearance was an inverse of her sister’s, with short, dark hair and a neural implant trailing from her left temple. It was partially covered by the flight goggles sitting atop her head, while Yin’s were wrapped around her neck. 

The director sighed and began to pace around the room of mission control. The two technicians in front of the monitors looked as though they’d rather be anywhere else, awkwardly glancing between the agents and Director Jenkins as if watching the most terrifying tennis match in the world. 

“I understand your trepidation, but he needs to learn team dynamics or he’s going to get himself killed out there. And -” She shot an irritated look at Agent Yang as she snorted and shared an amused look with her sister. “ _Despite_ what you may believe, we need him _alive._ ”

As she paced back towards the twins, she sighed, coming to a stop in front of them and reaching her hands out as if to plead with them.

“Look, just … take him under your wing. One objective. If it goes south, you never have to work with him again.” Agent Yin sighed before closing the folder, giving a curt nod and spinning on her heel, beginning to make her way out of the room. 

The two controllers breathed an audible sigh of relief, glancing briefly at each other before looking back at the director, who now had the bridge of her nose pinched between long fingers, the other hand resting on her waist. 

Agent Yang’s face turned bright red before turning much less gracefully than her sister and rushing after her. 

Agent Yin had barely reached the doorway before she heard her sister’s pounding footsteps. She managed to round the corner before Agent Yang began to screech once more, just a few feet behind. 

“Are you _kidding me?_ Just like that, we’re going on a highly covert mission with _Lance Sterling?_ And you’re _alright with that?”_ Yin held up one finger and her sister grudgingly quieted, speeding up slightly so they walked together in a seething hush. 

Painstaking minutes and a few more hallways passed and they reached a door with “KARMA” painted on the front in large, blue, block letters. It was their room, or, more specifically, a door that only they could open. Optical scans made sure of that. 

It opened to a barren room except for a small transport car, with a track that extended so deep into the facility, there was no way to see the end without traveling in the blindingly fast car. 

They boarded in the same stony silence, Agent Yang still ruffling her hair and Agent Yin beginning to anxiously stroke the wire connecting her brain and her backpack. As the doors slid closed and the transport began to move, Agent Yang began to practically vibrate in place, opting to pace the small car rather than sitting down. 

Still, they were quiet, an unspoken truce between them for the moment as the concrete walls rushed by them in a blur. The concrete gave way to open space and Agent Yang slowed her pacing. 

As the transport slowed, Agent Yin stood up and faced the doors, her sister stepping up beside her. The doors opened to the largest training facility in the H.T.U.V. agency. As one unit, they stepped out onto the smooth concrete floor. 

The room was shaped like a ten - mile wide concrete and rebar egg, with the transport suspended in the middle by a long pillar of stone. There were separate areas for different battle scenarios, decorating every surface of the egg, and, as the gadgetry woke up in the presence of the agents’ neural implants, multiple areas set on fire, began to spew liquid nitrogen, or awoke robots to swing gigantic weapons.

As they surveyed the room, Agent Yin was the one to break the silence. 

“I am not okay with it,” She pulled her flight goggles over her eyes and shifted them until they fit comfortably. “But, I understand the necessity of this mission.”

Agent Yang plucked her own goggles from her neck, pulling her neural wire away from where it had been trapped and had inevitably stuck to her skin. As she fitted them over her own eyes, she shuffled forward until the toes of her shoes were hanging off of the concrete platform. 

She sighed. “I get why he needs it, but, why us? Director Jenkins has other agent teams she can put on babysitting duty.”

Agent Yin mimicked her sigh and stepped forward so that she, too, was balancing on the edge of the platform, on the opposite side of her sister. In unison, they rolled their shoulders back and the backpacks they were wearing opened like metal flowers, the pieces folding backwards over the women’s bodies to form armor around their most vital points, including pieces folding over the exposed wire in a partial helmet. 

From within the space of the large backpacks extended pairs of magnificent metal wings, painted pristine white (in Yang’s case), and deepest black (in Yin’s). The feathers soundlessly stretched, and as if in slow motion they extended to their fullest wingspan, ten feet from wing tip to wing tip. 

“Because I would be lost without you.” Murmured Agent Yin, neither sister turning at the quiet admission. 

Agent Yang let out a heavy breath before admitting, just as quietly, that she felt the same. 

In a gust of wind, both agents were gone, beginning intense training on the obstacle courses furthest away from each other. 

_Now_

Karma jerked awake, a scream trapped in her throat as her head twisted violently, blinking away the night terror in favor of gray walls and a single metal table in the corner of the small cell, bolted to the floor and the wall for maximum security. 

She took in her familiar surroundings with a deep breath, pressing the heels of her palms to her temples and the port where her neural implant had been taken from. 

With a shaky sigh, she dragged her hands across her face to press into her eyes, fighting back tears of grief and fury. 

Her cell had no windows, and no light shone in from the small porthole in the hermetically sealed door. The vent above it was also silent, meaning the guard shift was either changing or asleep. 

It didn’t matter. Karma was awake now, and she rolled herself out of the small metal cot they called a bed and began to do push - ups on the floor. Exercising was the only way she could pass the time after she had given one of her guards a concussion from the book she had been reading. 

No matter how much she pleaded that he had been trying to assault her, the higher - ups had decided to take everything from her cell, including the small pot containing a smaller chrysanthemum blossom. That had been the only material loss that bothered her. 

As she moved to do sit - ups, hooking her feet beneath her bed frame, Karma remembered the look on Director Jenkins' face as she had picked up the small pot. It was sadness mixed with pity, and she would have hit the woman for it had she not been wearing immobility handcuffs. 

Karma imagined that her sister’s chrysanthemum now sat on the Director’s desk, if it had not died already and been thrown in the trash. In full view of any _agents_ \-- 

At that, she sprang up and began pacing the room, too full of manic energy to continue the slow repetition of her exercises. 

She began to plot out once more exactly how she would destroy the man who had stolen everything from her. Tear him to pieces as he had done to her, leaving nothing behind but a hollow, ruined shell of a person. 

She began to punch the door, adding new bloodstains to the dark streaks that already marked it. 

His face swam before her sleep - deprived eyes and she punched harder, feeling the skin on her knuckles splitting across old scars.

Karma would kill Lance Sterling.

Or she would die trying. 


	2. Powerful, Powerless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter introduces some spice lmao

_ Then _

_ If evolution had gifted humanity with wings of their own, even the smallest of them would be far too heavy to fly. A fully grown adult would only be able to fly with an eighty feet wingspan, and by that point, the wings themselves would be too heavy to use. With proportional wings, the human being would be too heavy to lift off the ground without getting tired too fast to fly any further than a few feet.  _

__ _ Birds have hollow bones, and air pockets in their bodies, allowing even the smallest of their wings to harness the air. If a human hollowed out their bones in the pursuit of flight, they would die from a lack of red blood cells and t - cells.  _

__ _ However, if humans were able to develop a lighter substance to replace bone marrow and halt the body from producing more, a human would - theoretically - be able to fly. The human would need to train their upper body strength to extreme levels, without building up too many of the heavier muscles, once again returning to the weight problem.  _

“However,” the head scientist explained, clicking off the powerpoint and turning to look at the two new agents at the opposite end of a long conference table, a wide, almost manic smile on his face. “We believe we have solved all of these problems. With the director’s permission, we have isolated the necessary components in bone marrow that produces these cells and keeps them alive, and replicated them in what we are calling  _ hollow marrow.” _

He directed their eyes to a small beaker on the table, filled with a brown, sticky substance that looked remarkably similar to the bone marrow of a cooked chicken. He then produced a second glass beaker from the inside of his white lab coat. 

“First, I would like you to hold this and memorize its weight. Feel it, and understand the amazing feat of science I am about to show you.” The scientist gestured wildly to the filled beaker, hardly noticing the skeptical look the agent with jet - black hair pinned Director Jenkins with.

The agents passed the empty beaker back and forth before the agent with snow - white hair placed it delicately in front of her, nodding slowly. 

The scientist picked up the filled beaker and gazed upon it with reverence for a moment before handing it to the girl with snow - white hair, who let it balance in the palm of her hand with her mouth open. She passed it to her counterpart without a word, and the girl with jet - black hair let her eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

She hummed, passing it back and forth between her hands. 

“It’s slightly heavier due to the presence of the hollow marrow, but it is imperceptible to human touch. It can replace the bone marrow in the entire skeletal system without being rejected by the host, and will allow anyone to fly unaided with a pair of wings.” His smile grew impossibly wider as the agents exchanged wary glances.

The director was the one to break the silence. 

“And yet, humans don’t have wings -” She trailed off as if to remind the scientist that he had more to say. It seemed to work as he let out a sound of realization and leaned down to pull a large black case from under the table in front of him.

“Yet!” He proclaimed proudly, flicking open the lid of the case and turning it towards the agents, both of whom leaned forwards to get a better look. It was a large metal box, with two thick straps connecting the top of the box to the bottom. It looked like a metal backpack.

“Introducing the first functional prototype of project Keep America Ready for Major Annihilation.” His smile didn’t match the macabre name. He lifted the backpack out of the case and gingerly rested it on the table, sweeping the case onto the floor with a loud slam that made the agent with dark hair jump in her seat. The scientist turned the front of the backpack towards them and pressed a hidden button on the side. 

Two gigantic silver wings shot out the sides of the pack. They were fully made of metal and each were about seven feet long. As the scientist began to drone about the intricacies of the project, the agents watched a few “feathers” drop off the wings and fall like stones, clinking unnaturally against the linoleum floor.

The agents looked at each other meaningfully, not noticing Director Jenkins paying close attention to their silent conversation. As she watched both women nod, she moved forward to drop a file in front of the dark - haired agent. It was stamped with the word “CONFIDENTIAL” in bright red, and across the top was the word KARMA in black, spidery handwriting. 

The scientist quieted immediately when the Director began to speak, and pressed another button to retract the wings, noticing the lost feathers and swearing softly as he bent to collect them.

“It’s a dangerous operation to replace your cells with hollow marrow, and I’m not going to lie to you, the neural transmitter is even more so. Your brain will be vulnerable in the spot where it plugs in and if an enemy hits the wire, you will be immediately incapacitated. Be cautious in your decision, as it may be - “

“We’ll do it.” The white - haired agent stated solemnly, not breaking eye contact with her sister. She nodded once, and they both looked at the head scientist who had jolted up in surprise. 

“You will?” He yelped, one of the feathers he had collected slipping from his hand and back to the floor. He didn’t even seem to notice, too focused on the women in front of him. 

He yelled in excitement when they nodded, picking up the backpack with one hand and sprinting to the door, bumping it open with his hip and calling back something about readying his department’s equipment. 

The director looked despairingly at the black case discarded on the floor, and walked around the table to pick up the abandoned feather. She set it on the table and let out a heavy sigh, making sure to catch the eyes of both agents before she spoke, sure they were listening intently.

“Are you sure?” They nodded once more. She didn’t seem happy about the progress of project Karma, but instead looked more worried than she had been watching the head scientist flail. She just nodded back.

“You’ll need to develop codenames. After your operation you will be given one week of recovery before entering a grueling training regiment to get your body used to the prototype wings and your mind used to your body. We will teach you how to attach and remove your neural control for the prototypes, but you will always have a hole right here.” A long, manicured finger pressed against her temple, and the dark - haired agent cleared her throat.

“Joy, we’ve chosen codenames. You of all people know we are going to want our neural implant on the opposite sides, otherwise people will only tell us apart by our hair. And despite what you may think,” She gazed levelly at the Director, and she found herself feeling nervous from the intensity in the young agent’s gaze. “We understand the risks.”

Her sister broke out in a large grin and began to bounce in her seat, letting some of her natural peppiness seep through the guarded front. 

“Besides,” She tittered excitedly. “We’ve been waiting for something big like this  _ forever.” _

Director Jenkins sighed again, but allowed a small smile to touch her lips. 

“Then welcome, Agents Yin and Yang, to Team Karma.”

_ Now _

Red alarm lights flashed with every wail of the emergency siren, lighting up an otherwise silent prison. Inside her cell, Karma watched the small window set in her door, and counted the seconds between flashes until it was blocked by a panicked looking guard. 

She rose silently to her feet as she heard the many locks begin to click open, one by one. She counted fourteen before the door was thrown open and the young man entered with glowing magnetic cuffs in a shaking hand.

Karma lifted her hands towards him complacently, wrists together, and relief briefly crossed his face before the alarm blared again and it tightened into a look of fear. She wondered if she should ask what was happening, before deciding it didn’t matter. 

As soon as the cuffs were secured, she noted that she could still walk on her own as he grabbed her upper arm and led her into the middle of a formation of guards. Did they forget that these cuffs weren’t immobilizing?

Her reflection was cut short when one of the older guards standing behind her nudged her lower back with his electrified baton. As she was shaking off the currents, they began to move and speak amongst themselves. 

“They’re calling everyone back to main base-”

“Set off every fuckin’ alarm from here to Moscow-”

“Are we in danger from-”

“Better call my wife and let her know-”

“-taking the prisoner with us?”

“-not important enough for this-”

Karma rolled her eyes and counted no less than fifteen guards surrounding her on all sides, corralling her through winding halls still painted in red light. The younger guard had let go of her arm but still hovered near her, swiveling his head to a new angle every time the alarm blared.

They walked for nearly ten minutes before coming abruptly to a stop, turning as one unit to a large set of double doors. They were sturdy and looked to be made of thick metal, standing nearly twelve feet tall and a total of sixteen feet across. One of the guards at the front of the group pressed his hand to the seam in the doors and a blue light shone around the outline of his fingers. A palm scanner?

The doors slid apart silently to reveal a hangar overlooking the ocean. There was only one vehicle and it looked like a large black helicopter with a large silver painted on the side, proudly proclaiming: “Honor, Trust, Unity and Valor.”

Half the guards boarded before her, led her on, and then the rest climbed in. Karma carefully schooled her face into a neutral expression as the young guard caught his boot on the lip of the helicopter and went sprawling along the floor. 

As she was led to a seat between two older, armed men, she watched the poor man scramble to his feet, tugging his cap over the top of his now red ears and making his way to the pilot’s seat. 

Karma watched him with as much interest as she dared, noting how he could barely look anyone in the eyes besides herself. She felt the helicopter stir to life below her feet and as they rolled towards the open sky, the young guard relaxed, as if realizing no one was paying him any attention any more. 

The alarms faded as they lifted off of the ground, the doors closing just before the helicopter fully left the building. 

From what Karma could see out of the large window next to the guard on her left, they were moving faster than any helicopter she had ever seen. For the first time in a long time, she wondered how long she had been imprisoned in that tiny box, only visited by those who would bring her food or provoke her for sport. 

She closed her eyes and brought the magnetic cuffs up to press against her forehead, grimacing at the light ache left behind from the loud sirens. 

“Hands in your lap, prisoner!” The guard near the window snapped, poking her in the ribs with an active stun baton. She grunted in pain and did as he said, keeping her eyes closed and resigning herself to a very long ride.

Except it wasn’t as long as she expected.

Not even fifteen minutes later, the helicopter jolted, and she felt the engine cut and die. 

Karma opened her eyes and looked around in shock as the guards bustled her out of the helicopter and through another set of hangar doors. 

She was back at the  _ main base.  _ She was back in  _ Washington DC.  _ Meaning…. 

As they moved through a short hallway and into a large, spacious room bustling with people, the guards formed a tighter escort around her and began yelling at the workers to stand back. That she was dangerous even unarmed and anyone in the vicinity should be careful.

Suddenly, everyone in the room stopped walking, and the guards around her quieted suspiciously. Karma found her gaze drawn to the skylight above them, or … pond-light? She could see water above them, and was calculating how much force it would take for her to break through it with her wings, when she was startled out of her daydream by a clearing of the throat right in front of her. 

She knew who it was.

She found no need to take her eyes from the ceiling, nor to acknowledge the shorter woman standing in front of her with anything other than a nod.

Director Jenkins sighed and nodded to one of the guards, who activated his stun baton with an audible crackle of electricity. At that, Karma’s eyes slowly trailed down the walls to meet an old friend. 

“Agent Y- Agent Karma, you have been -” The director began, only to be interrupted by the woman in handcuffs.

“Oh, you can call me “prisoner,” Joy. We both know I don’t belong to you anymore.” Karma’s gaze was piercing, and the guards around her shifted uncomfortable at the intensity of the two women sizing each other up.

Director Jenkins cleared her throat. “You will be placed in the labs under constant surveillance for your own protection. You are not permitted -” Karma began to laugh and the director cut herself off, glaring at the other woman as she closed her eyes. 

Everyone in the large room had their eyes on the two at this point, and many flinched when the woman suddenly leaned into the Director’s face, the guards around her tensing and the young guard made a halting gesture as if to step between them. The director didn’t even blink.

“We both know I’m here for your protection,  _ Director.  _ Your most dangerous tool might just…” Karma giggled and glanced at the guards on either side of them. “ _ Find use.” _

The director stepped back with a frown at the thinly veiled threat. She motioned the guards to lead her underground, and Karma took one more look at the watery sunlight filtering through the ceiling. 

Judging by the large display taking up half of one of the walls, Karma had been imprisoned for…  _ seven years. _ A long time to never see the sun.

They were in the gadget lab when the first drones hit, and all but the youngest guard ran back towards where the screaming had started. Karma saw her chance as his head turned towards the door, and sat down in one of the chairs. He started, but looked away once more when he confirmed she had barely moved. 

He seemed so nervous, sweat trailing down his face sluggishly as he gripped his stun baton tighter, not seeming to notice the electricity had halted following the purple blast of light that had struck them minutes earlier.

The poor man didn’t see that the handcuffs had loosened, just enough for her to slip a deactivated device up her sleeve. 

Nearly two hours later, she was escorted back onto the helicopter amid the cheers of workers who had been “saved.” She grit her teeth every time she heard  _ his _ name, but made a note of the one that seemed to be attached to it now. 

_ Walter Beckett. _

The device in her sleeve pressed against the delicate skin of her wrist as she sat down between two guards once again, not having set off any alarms. 

The director had followed them through the building, and watched them all board with a somber air. 

As the helicopter left the hangar, she suppressed a shiver. 

She could have sworn she had seen Agent Karma smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F7n_ddzdEjI


	3. Sometimes, Quiet is Violent

_ Then _

Someone outside the closed door would have been able to hear a pin drop in the debriefing room. The agents inside were still covered in the wreckage of their mission, dirty and blood spattered from head to toe. 

Even Lance Sterling was uncharacteristically silent, refusing to meet the unfocused gaze of his remaining partner or the glare from the Director. Instead, he stared at the lone feather resting in front of the winged agent, covered in more red than paint. 

She was staring straight ahead, eyes intense but unseeing. She hadn’t moved since she had first sat down, and even her breathing was imperceptible. The only indication that she was still alive was the startled jump she had given when Director Jenkins picked up the bloodied feather. 

Their superior twirled it between her fingers for a few moments speculatively, before turning towards the more cognizant of her agents. 

“Please tell me,” Her voice was icy, and Agent Sterling fidgeted in his seat, forcing himself to hold her gaze. “We at least wiped  _ every last one _ of them off the map.”

He nodded solemnly, and forced down the pride that he felt. Agent Sterling would celebrate his victory later, surrounded by his cheering fans, but at the moment, he felt the heavy atmosphere growing more crushing, and watched with bated breath as the remaining half of Team Karma finally looked the Director in the eyes. 

Whatever she saw in those eyes made her breath catch, and she turned to Lance after only a moment. With a nod, he was out of his seat and leaving the room, closing the door behind him with an unintentionally loud bang.

The agent did not jump a second time, and seemed to be frozen once more where she had caught the Director’s gaze. Her eyes had lost focus again, and it took a few seconds for her to realize Joy was looking at her with a mixture of worry and pity.

“We didn’t kill the last one.” The agent whispered strangely, her eyes falling to the feather still in the Director’s hand, hardly blinking.

The Director gave a long sigh and moved around the table to stand next to the shell-shocked woman, gently picking up her hand and placing the feather on her open palm. Her hand closed over it as a reflex, but she didn’t seem to recognize it was there.

“Agent… this is a tragedy, but it wasn’t your fault.” 

Cheering erupted from the room above them, and Joy mused in irritation that Agent Sterling must have entered the main floor. It startled Director Jenkins how fast the agent’s eyes snapped to hers, alight with a new kind of fierce determination. 

“No,” Her voice was barely a whisper, and if she weren’t standing close, the Director was sure she wouldn’t have been able to hear the young woman. “No, it wasn’t my fault.”

Director Jenkins cleared her throat uncertainly, drumming long fingers against the table. 

“You will be given time to grieve - “ She was cut off immediately by the agent shaking her head, a tad more violently than she normally would. 

“I don’t need time,” The director let out a heavy breath and opened her mouth to speak before inhaling sharply at the woman’s next words. “I want to begin training with the Night Runner squadron.”

The heavy silence returned to the room as the Director processed the words. There was a certainty in her statement that frightened the older woman, and she realized the young agent in front of her had seen something that had destroyed any wish she had previously held to have a normal life. 

“Agent… I’m speaking to you not as your superior, but as your friend,” She caught the young woman’s eyes and held them for a long moment, searching for any hesitation. “Are you sure that will be good for you right now?”

“Director,” She spoke tersely, and Joy winced at the apathy in her tone. “It doesn’t matter anymore.” 

Her gaze dropped to the table and her eyes finally filled with tears threatening to spill over. 

“If you give me time to grieve, or even a few days to think over my decision, I’m going to find a way to kill myself. My sister was the only thing I had left.” Her empty hand gripped the edge of the table until her knuckles were white, and blood began to drip from where the feather cut into the palm of her other hand. “I’m a weapon, and that’s all I ever want to be again.”

Joy closed her eyes as the agent began to weep, tears cutting clean tracks through the blood and dirt on her face. She touched the young woman’s shoulder and felt it shudder with silent sobs. 

She was still only a child… Both sisters had been barely eighteen when they graduated from West Point, and subsequently recruited into Project Karma.

But the Director understood what she was saying. It was the closest the agent would ever come to asking for help.

“I’ll put in the request… ” She checked her watch. “This morning, and should get a response by late afternoon. If I don’t contact you in twelve hours, come and find me. You’re dismissed, Agent Y-”

“Karma,” The agent cut in, not letting go of the edge of the table, but opening her bloodied hand to stare at the deep cuts left by the metal feather. 

“Agent Karma.”

_ Now _

__ “You’re kidding, _ ”  _ Lance Sterling stared at his new partner’s wide grin as if it had personally offended him just by existing. Which wouldn’t be far off the mark at the moment. “Joker, you’ve officially  _ lost it.” _

“I have not!” Walter Beckett protested, his hundred watt smile dimming slightly. “It’s been proven that rehabilitation works better in group situations due to human dependence on social interaction, and we don’t have anyone else being kept in-” He lowered his voice, glancing secretively at the bound man sitting with the guard detail in the back of the helicopter. “ _ The private facility.” _

“ _ He,” _ Lance gestured wildly to Killian, who was watching them closely with an acute blue gaze. “Has tried to kill both of us. And the entire agency.  _ She _ has only tried to kill  _ me.  _ Would gladly try again if we gave her the chance, I’m sure of it.”

Walter held up the piece of paper he had taken from the manilla folder in his hands, waving it excitedly in Sterling’s direction. 

“Except she’s been way more cooperative in the past month. Ever since the attack, she’s been reclassified as -” He pulled the piece of paper back towards his face and squinted at the tiny font. “Docile? Isn’t that more for animals?”

“Do I get a say in this asinine plan?” Killian’s voice was smooth when he cut in, and he kept his head high, peering down his nose in disdain at the men around him. His prosthetic arm had been replaced by a similar plastic model, and after much deliberation, the agency had allowed him to keep his facial reconstructive hologram. His clothes, which had been excessively searched for weapons, he was also allowed to keep largely the same, though the tears made in the blazer from their final fight had been sewn shut by the uniform crew before it was returned. 

“Absolutely not.” Agent Sterling snapped before turning back around to face his partner. “And  _ absolutely not.” _

“Lance!” Walter winced at the whiny tone he had unconsciously adopted. “You said we were going to do things my way from now on. That means …” He pinned the senior agent with a pleading look. “Not leaving anyone behind if we think there’s even the  _ smallest  _ chance that we can help them. You said it yourself, she only tried to kill  _ you _ , so he and I should be safe! You can stay on the helicopter, and we can get everything set up without you.”

His tone became sly at the end, and Lance gave a heaving sigh, ignoring the scoff that came from behind him.

“Look, Walter, I love that you see the good in everyone, but you  _ don’t know this agent.  _ There are some things that I’ve done you don’t know about, and - “ Before he could finish, the engine cut and the door slid open to reveal a secondary guard detail that began to take over the villain’s transfer.

Agent Beckett stood up and began collecting his things, including his mobile lab and Agent Karma’s file. 

“Look, Lance,” He jumped off of the H.T.U.V. sanctioned vehicle and turned back to the still open door. Walter rocked back on his heels and found his partner’s eyes. “You can either stay here and worry about everything, or, you can come with us. See what I have planned! It might put your mind to rest.”

Lance Sterling sighed through gritted teeth, but had already made his way to solid ground.

~~

The prison had a pervading chill that seemed to seep into the very bones of the two active agents. Walter shivered and pulled his lab coat tighter around him as they walked deeper into the underground facility, wishing that he had thought to bring along a sweater.

Lance was too anxious to do anything except try to burn holes into the back of Killian’s head, watching for any signs of discomfort or errant movement. He may be restrained, but there was no way Sterling would ever trust him.

A senior guard fell into step with them, taking their silence as an opening to talk to the agents. 

“Welcome to Tartarus. Most secure facility owned by the United States government.” He motioned to Killian with the end of his stun baton. “Until now, we only had one prisoner. But we’ve cleared out another cell for him, as well as restructuring the guard rotation so they both have at least one of us on call at all times.”

“That won’t be necessary!” Said Walter, beginning to bounce on his toes and rifling through his backpack as they walked. “The first rehabilitation session should begin immediately, so do you have any sort of open room where they can meet?”

The guard missed a step and stumbled, catching himself and pushing up his hat in order to better stare incredulously at the smaller man. 

“You want two of the most dangerous people in the world… to have a  _ tea party?”  _ He looked at Lance disbelievingly, who only shrugged and nodded.

“Look, buddy, it wasn’t my idea. Look at the genius.” At that, Walter ducked his head and flushed, opting to pointedly stare into the open pockets of his pack. 

After a gravid pause, the guard hesitantly spoke again, reaching for his radio.

“I can let the lower detail know to bring her to the upper mess hall,” Walter nodded happily and opened his mouth to speak before being cut off. “ _ But,  _ they’re going to want to use the IM cuffs.”

“IM cuffs?” Killian asked, as Walter finally extracted his multi-pen from the bottom of his portable lab. His curiosity outweighed his hatred as, for the moment, he recognized himself as beaten.

“Immobilization handcuffs.” Lance answered for his partner, nodding once to the guard who began to speak quietly into his radio.

“Is that really necessary? I mean, they’re both in handcuffs already.” Walter’s disgruntled look made Lance chuckle softly to himself, looking ahead at Killian’s face half-turned towards them. He answered as the villain quickly looked forward again.

“Walter, you’ve read her file. You know what she is. I’ve seen her kill a man with one foot and a paperclip.”

“Is that even possible?” The younger agent asked after a pause, a slightly fearful look on his face. 

Lance only looked at him meaningfully, not having time to respond before the guard’s radio crackled, relaying that she was on her way, and the group started down a sharp right turn into another long hallway.

The rest of the walk was silent, and after another minute or so, they saw a pair of darkly dressed guards standing in front of a set of double doors.

They stood at attention as the group approached, only relaxing after being told to ease by the senior guard. He then turned back to the two agents. 

“Once we walk through these doors, you do not say anything that she might be able to manipulate you with. You do not give her anything that can even remotely be used as a weapon. The IM cuffs will allow her to speak but not move, and in the unlikely event they were to fail, you do not,  _ under any circumstances _ , touch her or let her touch you. That goes for you, too, pretty boy.” He prodded Killian’s back with a deactivated stun cane, who nodded after a beat of silence. 

“Ready!” Walter declared, twirling his multi-pen between his fingers. 

Lance took a step back, glancing warily at the doors. 

“I think I’m gonna stay out here, but, uh, have fun.” He was  _ nervous,  _ Walter realized, a beat before the guards opened the door and bustled Killian through. 

He took a deep, calming breath, and followed closely behind. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=92XVwY54h5k


	4. Take My Breath Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Y'know, I really thought I'd keep a constant update with this but alas, life says get fucked.

_ Then _

__ Director Jenkins stared incredulously at Agent Karma, standing at attention on the other side of her desk. The training that prospectives had to undergo was brutal, she knew, but the change that had overtaken the younger woman was drastic. 

The Night Runner squadron prided themselves on being small in number and incredibly secretive, and going back a hundred years to the original two, there had only ever been twelve of them. Their uniform dramatically reflected that, as the Agent had on black fatigues tucked into black combat boots, with a large bomber jacket falling to her upper thighs. Joy noticed absently that the sleeves had been tailored to fit as she turned her attention to the documents on the desk. There was a black patch sewed over the heart of the jacket, and from what she knew of the other uniforms, it would have a number carved into it as soon as she completed the last trial. 

The third model of project KARMA was a sleek, black shell that folded over the wearer’s back, conforming to the slope of their shoulder blades and spine. The wearer was still able to move and stretch comfortably, but from what the Director could understand, it was the most delicate model by far, and even though the joints of the wings were usually protected by feathers, one errant shot to the wrong piece of the support lattice, and the wing would stop responding - something Agent Karma had thankfully discovered with both feet on the ground.

She returned her attention to the papers spread in front of her, an amalgamation of mission reports, training certifications, and one page dramatically referred to as “the Night Runner’s Code” - a glorified letter of recommendation from the only other member of the squadron. 

The print of it was so small that Joy could hardly read it, but she knew it carefully outlined everything from the duties of a Night Runner to the brutal punishments of exposing the secret operations. 

If she was completely honest with herself, Director Jenkins didn’t need to read the Code. She had been pouring over it for the last couple weeks, could probably recite it in her sleep, feeding her anxious imagination with hundreds of ways that Agent Karma could wind up dead. She had even reached out to the young woman’s parents, a desperate move that had only cost her more peace of mind. 

She breathed out slowly and closed her eyes, removing her glasses with trembling fingers and placing them on the desk in front of her. Joy allowed her right hand to move across the desk to her jar of pens, picking up the first one that brushed her fingertips and moving it to hover over where she knew the dotted line was.

“Agent Karma, I would like to give you one last chance to return to being a field agent.” She wanted to say more, she wanted to say so much more. The Director wanted to scream, to tell the young woman in front of her that she was making a mistake, that every moment of her life after that signature would no longer be her own. 

She wanted to say that she understood what the young woman had done to be standing in front of her now, but she  _ didn’t.  _ The trials for joining the Night Runners were described to her as grueling, cruel, even unfair, but no one would go into specifics, not even with the eleven other young men and women who had undergone the testing. 

Eleven new funerals to plan. 

The silence stretched on, and Joy found the pen moving of its own volition, a neat signature, practiced an uncountable amount of times on things that  _ didn’t _ feel like a death certificate. 

She lifted the pen away and immediately felt air be displaced in front of her, and didn’t have to open her eyes to know that her desk was completely clear, the dark figure having disappeared through the gently closing door. 

Joy Jenkins blinked, and tears broke from her eyes when she did, staring unfocused at the blurry lights from the hallway, bright and sterile compared to the soft lamplight glow of her office.

She whispered an apology to the empty room, but the silence had nothing to forgive.

_ Now _

The woman’s arms were trembling against the cuffs, pulsating with veins of red light halfway up her forearms and all the way to her fingertips. She was sitting alone at one of four metal tables in the cafeteria, eyes wide and hair wild. At the sight of them, she gave a manic smile, revealing the sharpest canines Walter had ever seen. 

The word  _ feral _ crossed his mind and he chided himself for being so quick to judge someone. 

There were guards sitting at two of the other tables, and Killian was being herded to the last empty one, leaving Walter to make the split second decision to sit between them, on the inside bench of Killian’s table. He offered a bright smile to the ex-agent, who seemed to be immobilized to stare straight ahead, her eyes flicking back and forth between the two new faces before settling on that smile. 

A shiver raced down his spine as their eyes met, and the intensity of her gaze caught him. Walter felt the smile falter, but he forced the fear down, feeling oddly as though he was standing his ground against a predator. The woman continued to stare at him from the corner of her eye, but after a few seconds of silence, her stare softened and began to flit back and forth between himself and the villain just behind him.

Feeling oddly as though he had passed some sort of test, Walter turned to regard the profile of the man behind him, who was pointedly staring straight ahead and attempting to ignore anything except a particularly fascinating chip in the paint of the opposite wall. 

Walter cleared his throat softly and the taller man’s eyes flicked to him quickly, the one eyebrow he could see rising in question.

Killian was once again surprised by the young man who saved his life, as Walter stood up and beckoned to him with a smile.

Without looking to see if he would actually follow, (and before he could lose his false sense of bravado) Walter crossed the few foot gap between the tables and sat directly in front of the trembling woman. The bold move had attracted the attention of the authorities in the room, and Killian felt both guards next to him tense. 

The woman’s eyes fully focused on Walter, and that manic, toothy smile fell into some shadow of a smirk, looking almost intrigued. She opened her mouth as if to speak, but the red light spanning her arms suddenly pulsated brightly and her entire figure shrunk, face twisting in barely concealed rage and pain. 

One of the men near the door shifted, and Walter saw his grip relax on a small box in his hands. The red light on the woman’s arms stopped throbbing and softened into a gentle pulse, and she slouched immediately with a quick breath of relief. 

The guard to Killian’s right stiffened in his seat, and the one on his left seemed to shrink, and with a quick glance, he noticed pity swimming in the young man’s eyes. 

_ Dangerous _ . He thought offhandedly, as he saw Beckett’s mouth open, the scientist’s eyes focused on the guard in question, obviously going to either tell him off or try to confiscate the IM cuff controller. 

Not as dangerous as standing up, dusting off the front of his blazer with a shackled hand and stepping around his frozen guard detail to make his way to the other table, however. No, that would be downright suicidal, and Killian would never make such a bad choice. 

“Move.” Walter jumped, not realizing that the older man was standing behind him, but quickly shifted to the end of the table. For a moment, Walter wasn’t sure he would sit down, as the two prisoners in the room had locked eyes for the first time.

For a few moments, they stared at each other and he tried to find anything in the darkness of her gaze, knowing he was giving her time to do the same search. Neither of them seemed to find anything, and after a few heartbeats, Killian sat, not in front of her but offset, nearer to the opposite side of Walter. 

He raised one eyebrow, and she broke the connection, eyes flitting past him, and to the controller in the guard’s hand. When the buttons remained unpushed, she slowly rose back to the stiff position she had been in when they arrived. 

She glanced between the two men with a new, curious light in her eyes.

“Hello,” Walter began excitedly, his hundred watt smile returning to his face. “I know we haven’t met before - of course we haven’t - but I read your file, and - well, you would already know - but I wanted to ask you - of course you have a choice, I wouldn’t make you - if you wanted to - well they would never let you -”

The young man’s face pinked, and his mouth snapped shut as the woman across from him began giggling.    
“ _ Breathe,  _ kid.” Her voice was slightly rough from disuse and Killian noticed the younger, naïve guard at his original table flinched at the sound. “I’m not, ah …  _ going anywhere  _ anytime soon.”

Walter didn’t know if that was supposed to make him relax, but it did quite the opposite. If anything, her attempts at humor made him more anxious, and the multi-pen digging into his side was the only thing grounding him. 

Tartarus was a concrete block in the middle of the ocean so far off the map it made Guantanamo bay look like the Hollywood sign. It was created for the people who couldn’t be held by the standard system, the ones smart enough to break out or rich enough to buy the whole prison - the unkillable ones the United States needed to disappear.

But she was …. 

“You can call me Karma, but I’m sure you already read that.” Her eyes hadn’t left him, and he wondered momentarily if she knew how piercing her gaze was. “Oh, but I wonder - what else did they let you read?”

Walter’s smile shrunk, but he also leaned towards her slightly, blue eyes widening. Killian raised his eyebrow slightly at the interest of the young scientist.

“Wha-wait what do you mean? I read your  _ whole file,  _ from West Point to here! You were an agent - right? A good one - that’s what they said!” Karma’s small smile turned into a malicious slash across her face, and the darkness in her eyes suddenly burned like hellfire. Walter shifted back at the sudden change and she could tell by the part of his lips that she had startled him. 

Walter’s curiosity would get him  _ killed _ one day. Killian shifted as she went to lean toward the smaller man, and her eyes flicked from his icy blues to the IM controller before thinking better of it, settling herself back into the seat and blinking slowly.

“If they told you I was a  _ good agent,  _ then they were right.” Agent Beckett nodded fast but she continued. “If they told you I was a  _ good person... _ . Tell me the truth. Then I will agree to whatever your silly side - project charity - case is.”

Both men were taken aback, and Walter actually gaped at her for a few seconds, and she stared at him unblinkingly until he straightened. 

“Don’t you want to know what it is first?” He asked weakly. He let the silence persist for a few minutes before glancing at Killian, who was sitting with both hands - human and robotic - under the table. From so close, Walter could see his prosthetic eye dilating and constricting, the camera within swirling and mapping every inch of the new player in the game. 

Well, Walter figured, if Killian would be stuck there with her anyway, he might as well know as much as the rest of them. 

“The Director told me that most of your information was on a need-to-know-basis but that you would be the best person to help me. The file they gave me said you started at West Point and were recruited directly by the H.T.U.V. practically after graduation day.’’

She was nodding, and at her acceptance, his voice grew stronger.

“You were training to be a field agent for about six months until you were recruited by the science department for a classified project.”

He looked at her hopefully, but her expression had turned somber and she was offering no further information. Killian, however, was now watching her with rapt attention. She nodded again and he continued.

“Then - uh… one of your missions went bad. Like,  _ really _ bad, and you lost your partner.”

Karma’s eyes had slipped closed, and her brow furrowed lightly. Her red - tinged arms dropped below the table and her chin dropped slightly.

“Then there was this weird gap in the file - two years between that mission and here are completely redacted but then you tried to  _ kill an agent _ so they put you  _ here _ and I’ve been trying to figure out what you could have done in those two years to make yourself dangerous enough to be  _ erased _ but unless you yourself are a walking nuke I just - I just don’t understand.” Walter’s voice cracked at the end, warbling and uncertain.

Without opening her eyes, Karma nodded, and Killian could see a crease forming between her eyebrows. 

“Alright, Agent Beckett.” Everyone in the room started slightly, and Karma could practically  _ feel  _ the younger man trying to rewind the conversation and see where his name had come up.

A loud clatter rang out and Karma slowly opened her eyes, pulling her hands from above the table and rubbing her now bare wrists. 

Walter went cold, and he heard the simultaneous activation of half a dozen stun batons. However, there was suddenly an open hand in front of his face. Holding a small paper clip. He raised a trembling hand and she dropped it into his palm, heaving a great sigh and running her hands through her vibrant red hair, mussing up the wild locks further.

“I’ll trade you, then. Information for information.” The look on her face was unreadable, and she leaned forward as if to whisper to them. But the guard detail was suddenly there, firm in the knowledge that she was not attacking. One grabbed Karma by her upper arm and pulled the small woman out of her seat, immediately locking her arms behind her back with two sets of normal handcuffs.

She was surrounded by no less than four guards, and Walter heard the crackling of a stun baton before hearing a scream like a wounded animal. 

He shot out of his seat, Killian momentarily forgotten as the ex-agent was tortured in front of them.

“Hey!” Walter cried out in shock but was ignored, the guards only stepping away when Karma had gone fully limp in the first man’s grip, held up only by the hand on her upper shoulder.

Her face was downturned but Killian could see a mixture of saliva, tears, and blood dripping from her chin. 

And then she grinned widely and looked up at them. The bloodstains on her teeth made Walter think  _ feral _ again before realizing that it wasn’t quite right. A feral animal didn’t think so strategically.  _ Feral  _ didn’t pluck heartstrings. 

She was  _ unpredictable.  _ And she was downright terrifying. 

She locked eyes with Walter, completely ignoring anyone else in the room.

“Ask them about the Night Runner squadron.” She stage-whispered, before being hoisted onto the guard’s shoulder like a bag of flour.

It was almost funny to watch her be carried from the room like a misbehaving pet, but no one could find it in them to laugh, especially since she was still staring at them with that blood-soaked smile.

As they reached the door, her foot came up and landed on the door jamb, effectively halting the man carrying her and causing the guards trailing them to become alert once more. 

She was still staring at the two men, but now with a frown marring her features. She was staring at the older australian man, as if realizing he was there for the first time. Before she could even open her mouth, he spoke.

“Killian.” He stated simply, fixing her with that icy stare, and she let her foot fall limp, watching him all the way out the door. 

Lance practically sprinted into the room when Karma’s guard detail had rounded the corner. Both to check on his partner and to make sure that she hadn’t left total destruction in her wake.

Walter was staring at the paper - clip in his hand. 

Had it fallen from his backpack? Did she somehow  _ take it  _ when he wasn’t looking?

But most of all…

“Lance?” His voice had jumped about five octaves in the past few minutes, but he doubted anyone could blame him. His partner was by his side in an instant, checking him over like a worried mother, and only relaxing his stance after deeming the scientist safe.

“You okay, partner? They just carried a whole lot of crazy down the hallway so we should probably leave before you catch anything.” Agent Sterling’s attempts at humor fell flat, and Walter’s eyes still hadn’t left the paper clip.

Sterling reached for it, and Agent Beckett’s hand closed, the smaller man blinking as if to wake himself up and turning to the dark-skinned man.

“ _ What was the Night Runner squadron? _ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bx51eegLTY8

**Author's Note:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SnshFzG6kaQ


End file.
